


Kiss Your Death Square on the Lips

by Byacolate



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Bad Flirting, Bad Jokes, Best Flirting, Bone Gags, But No Boning, M/M, Shaving, Skelekrav Is The Bee's Knees, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-09
Updated: 2016-11-09
Packaged: 2018-08-30 00:51:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8512438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Byacolate/pseuds/Byacolate
Summary: It's hard to chalk anything up as a total failure if it can fluster those old bones.





	

Space and time unzips itself not five feet away in the middle of the bathroom.

 

“Taako, I know I’m a little late, but I heard your - oh, wow! Wow. Ah.”

 

Taako lowers his leg, but barely. As in, only slightly, but also in the sense of the single solitary towel covering his whole situation. Taako grins to himself as he slides the razor from ankle to thigh.

 

“You wouldn’t believe the puns flying through this dome tonight, bone boy.”

 

Kravitz has a hand lifted in what must be the most ineffective shield on the moon, his joints click-clacking at every little movement.

 

“Um. Yes. Hello. Are you - are you nearly finished, I -”

 

“Say no more, I know it’s a _lot_ to take in.” Taako makes another pass, doing his damndest to strike a balance between the desire to put his gams on display like high art, and the desire not to fall backwards into the tub. His skeletal pal doesn’t rise to the bait, not even when Taako manages a near-perfect 90 degrees. A solid 80, at worst.

 

“You’ve gotta feel these suckers, thug. Smooth as satin.”

 

“I don’t -”

 

“Might as well be part dolphin with these bad boys. Like a couple of baby seals down there.”

 

“Taako, is there a reason you wanted me to...”

 

Taako interrupts him by turning the golden tap at the head of the tub. Despite the ingenuity of dwarven piping and a magical moon heating system, the water still manages to run ice cold more often than not.

 

It’s hard to be sensual when you’re hooting at your frosty toe tips, but if anyone can pull it off, Taako thinks he can be that one.

 

 _“Hoo,_ that smarts!” Maybe the damp, glistening leg effect was the wrong way to go. The practicality and efficiency of a speed rinse is looking better by the second. Taako scrubs his legs free of lather and escapes while the gettin’s good. “Yowza. Whoops!” He secures his fairly insecure towel a little tighter around his chest and whips off the one on his head. Phase One: Sultry Leg Rinse makes way for Phase Two: Sultry Wet Hair upon failure.

 

Well. Quasi-failure. Hard to chalk anything up as a total failure if it can fluster those old bones.

 

“Taako, please,” Kravitz says, bleach white fingers a-clacking. “Tell me there was a purpose to this... personal call.”

 

“That’s on you, my man,” Taako says, brushing past Death himself to his adjoining room. Flicks his hair a little as he goes because... well, it smells a little like a garden, a little like a library, and with his luck Kravitz will be nerd enough to fall for it. “You did ask if we’d be seeing each other again. Who am I not to deliver? And frankly, I’m insulted. As if these two smooth customers aren’t reason enough for a little pop through the celestial plane.”

 

“Astral plane.”

 

“You say tomato, I say trans-dimensional malarkey. Hold this for me?” He tosses his hair towel to a Kravitz that doesn’t fumble, to really drive that scent thing home. Honestly, it’s a gamble whether or not the guy can smell _anything_ without a corporeal nose.

 

“Taako, this is all very...” Taako turns his back to fumble through his train wreck of a closet. Maybe he bends over a little. Maybe it’s a lot. “... _you,_ but really. If there’s something you’d like to... to discuss or, ah...”

 

Taako straightens up, glancing over his shoulder at the pile of bones, jaws and joints rattling. He doesn’t want to seem too eager. Coy is key. “Oh no, by all means, if you’ve got somewhere better to be.”

 

And then he drops his towel.

 

And then Kravitz drops his towel.

 

It’s just not a great night for towels.

 

“Whoopsie. How’d that get way down there. My bad. Oh, you can go now, my guy. My dude. My man.”

 

Kravitz doesn’t immediately tear another portal through space and time to flee. That’s encouraging.

 

“No? You gonna kick up your feet for a bit? Make yourself comfortable? Want me to take your intimidating cloak? Mi casa es your chill zone.”

 

As rewarding as it is to face off with Death in a nude staring contest, his legs are starting to itch. In basically the greatest power move he’s ever made, Taako slips a bottle of oil onto the side table next to his jar of skin-hydrating balm. (They really should come up with a more easily marketable name for the stuff. A single word ought to do it.) Taako lounges against the headboard, rubbing the balm into his skin with a sigh. Flicks his eyes up and over to his stone-silent guest.

 

“Oooh. Hey. I’m smooth, but probably not as smooth as you, bone daddy. Wanna test that hypothesis? I’m down to get real scientific in here if you are.”

 

Kravitz takes a step closer, his robe following each footstep like smoke. It's pretty cool. Taako's into that. He's into a lot of things, up to and including the Grim Reaper. And why not? When he isn't in his rockin' bod (or his rock bod), he's got that edgy danger aesthetic going for him. Danger Aesthetic is Taako's middle name. There's another step, and then another, and Taako's chances of knocking teeth with his big damn nemesis is right there, just within his grasp. Among the other things within his grasp.

 

But when he slowly works the balm up to his inner thighs, well. That does it. With a rip and a flash, Death catapults headlong into a dimensional rift and disappears from sight.

 

All things considered? Not the most startling thing he could have done.

 

Taako lounges back against his pillows, swathed in the scent of libraries, of gardens, of herbal rosemary balm. He lifts the stone of far-speech from his chest and attunes it to a certain frequency. “Oh, boo. You’re no fun.”

 

He doesn’t really expect a response, content to have the last word. So the crackled, staticky, muffled, yet rich, luscious, exceedingly attractive, dare-he-say-velvety voice that floats back is something of a surprise.

 

“No bones about it,” mumbles Death.

 

And, well. That’s nearly just as good as boning.

 

(Taako, naturally, tells him so.)

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: [wardencommando](http://wardencommando.tumblr.com/).  
> 


End file.
